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Pastoral Poetry Uncategorized

Haiku: Searching the Flames

The unhappy hawk search the burning bush
Folk say she was scouting for her old granny,
But an escaping rabbit caught her attention instead

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Poetry

Morning sun

Spreading her white net,

Morning wakes to her duties

Gathering fresh scent

From flowers and dew

She casts upon the clouds

Heavenly paintings

A creation, perfect and mild

One gift given to man

Categories
Poetry

Another August Night, a birthday song

1

I hear the wind howl through the gaps again

Calling out, solemnly to the young evening 

I hear your name being sung, by the days rhyme 

Ten thousand voices; everything singing at the same time

2

Cold evening begat bright celebrations

Hopeful; boxes of joy, gifts from the heart

Green colors, smell of sweet vegetables 

Purple hues, flowers and nice fragrances 

Yellow and pink, cute dresses suggested

But orange is for you, when you blush 

3

And to end this little musing of mine… 

Let the Heavens remember your days song

Let your wishes come true today and always
I wish you a happy birthday… 



Note : Today the 16th of August, I pen this poem to celebrate a childhood friends birthday. I wish you a Happy birthday, Juliet Okoko. I wish you long life, prosperity and much more. 😊 Happy celebration. 

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Smiley

smiley

I like you to blow out laughing

Turn around and see me make a face

I like to see you smile

The pains in my heart go soothed away

I want to see the curves of your mouth

dance to the lyrics of my daydream

But call me names if you would

Call me the Pigeon and his one dark eye

Call me Napoleon of the ancient times

Call me the smiley

Which pops up before your face

In the middle of our chat

Call me anything

But I don’t care

For I want you to smile always

Because you got me

And a face which is like that of a smiley

 

 

Image from http://www.developersnippets.com

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A muse: Love

Days pass to weeks
weeks to months
Roses grow to shrubs
from greens to oranges

The dawn to dusk
path of life is made so;
seasons come and go
so do memories

When it shines
we remember the rain
when it storms
we remember the sun

Nothing is absolute
nothing will be perfect
without love and care
nothing will be worthwhile

The sweet nectar
grows in the flower
the bumble bee finds it
and makes honey from dew

If nothing is nothing
then something is something
If love is worth dying for
then that explains the Christian

But to desire without reason
that is ultimately absolute
but to care without affection
that is the purpose of true love

…We can never know who has fallen in love or hasn’t
Or why they falled in love or why they haven’t

but the ultimate is loving without reason

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The Glass Wall, and a commentary on friendship

The angered throw stones at the glass wall
He shouts and curses,
He yells and he faints
But the glass wall sits and watches…

Rain fall, the sun beat the weathered glass
The smear of mud from passing vehicles, the sweat of palms
… But the glass wall sits unperturbed

The stain of ages passing by,
The cold touch of the nights
and wear and tear…
Yet the cold wall had no heart

So is life bottled up, unrepentant
Not noticing when true friendship of love
Slipped away…

Commentary:
People lose real friends when they chose to take them for granted. The Glass wall symbolizes the person who had lost emotion or feelings for a friend. The purpose perhaps is to draw attention to people change falling back on how you treat or take them. It is necessary to change if the people around you are not seeing your worth or value. It is never known on records that a human life is tied totally to the existence of a friend. But as social animals, we chose for ourselves friends; people who serve as family. But when people who are supposed to be ‘family’ or friends act weirdly, it is best to move on.

We should learn to appreciate the people in our lives, no matter what. Visit, call and relate with your family more, forgive freely, love dearly without expectations, give to the needy, enjoy your life, spend time with people who have nobody and in all do these things with the love of God. Though we have billions of people in the world, you might never find an exact of who has been there for you. Yes! You might see someone better, but what about history? You can never erase that. Make your family and friends see how important they are to you by the way you treat and take them.

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Nature

Darkness falls

Darkness falls…

The cries of night wolves and wild dogs
Rent the airs far away deep in the forest
The wind grew milder, the moon light brighter
And the sweet lullabies ring out from homes
A tradition, one which the little ones adore
The evening simmer into a deep darkness
As the African tales went on, on bedsides

So went the day, in this quiet hamlet

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Okechukwu’s Haiku

The night came and went, but we are awake to Gods call
Though the night brought darkness and bricks of wall
To everyone, men and women, great or small
Yet the love of God wakes with us to perfect us all

Good morning from Africa!

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Fallacy of love

Dear Diary…

When two hands merge, they stick together
Lending, caring, hoping and loving
The stream of cord bonding both
Strictly fight for their loves survival
Distractions sprout up the root of the creeping weed
Tearing apart the bond that once lived happily
I crave for some fresh air in the open
I love to meet new people,
I wish you do the same too
For if we wouldn’t work
Then we were never meant to be

But…
Can’t you see…
That we are two different people?
That without you I survived
And without me you lived?
But do you think this would work
When our ego and pride let us lose?

Don’t be scared to move…
The earth is full of people
And we haven’t met any yet
But if you might wait…
I give you no assurance
That I would come back to you

Categories
Nature

The Wind

There was heavy wind, swooshing about
Just behind the hut where the pots lay
Now it surged. Paused, Sudden… Play
The wooden doors creak restlessly
Like horses surround’d by wild dogs
Near the bush, the wind whipp’d tree logs

The sweet fragrance of other houses came
The stench of the sewages woke up
And roofs flew off houses with no luck
Whistling pines started a quick rehearsal
Drawing to attention a memory of the wind
Waiting for the crescendo, the clan sang along

Stressed up, the plantain leaves dropped
The stars and moon took a fast flight
For the wind grew in power and might
Cats hidden under the dense garbage
Scrambled off for safety, the rats after them
All to seek refuge from the winds great storm

The clouds are pitch dark, cover’d entirely
By the grim hands of the warring wind
And to men and all, to bed she calmly bid
Drawing figures of stray sand upon the earth
Throwing ones garbage behind anothers backyard
And sweeping the town center, like a man gone mad

But the winds asunder most times are a lullaby
Yes, the sweet breezes that move about the house
Tickles everyone, man, woman, child, pet and mice
The heavy wind continue’d her joyful rage
And behind those huts where the pots lay
It went on and on. Paused and sudden… Play

Categories
Nature

Lions and Lionesses

Lions could be cute and cuddly,
But only without their teeth and claws!

They prowl the thick vegetations of Africa
And plains of South Asia…
With their manes as crowns
They rule the African jungle
They roar from afar…
And all tenants of the wild;
Deer, Elephant, Boar, Zebra
Wake to listen!

In the night, they set all ablaze
With eyes blood-shot
And paws ready to pounce
On any stray person…
They rule with clench fists
Crushing every opposition
Tearing opponents, flesh bones
And blood…

Commentary:
I always loved this cat, and thought of having to tame one as a pet. Are they not cute? Maybe not, when they are hungry. August 10th happen to be the Worlds Lion Day, so join me celebrate this exotic creatures of God.

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The Palm Tree

I wonder why it is called a tree
Yet she is dressed like a masquerade
With thorny arms raised to deliver a blow
And fins to wade thru a turbulent storm

Dangerous as she looks,
She is quietly harmless
Swerving from one wind to another
She enjoy the attention of the airs

When there is a heavy storm
She guides the little shrubs
When the sun shine bright
She takes also much heat

She stand, tall and fixated…
Breaking the wind surge
Wearing a grim apparition
One of piety and grace

She possesses queer tentacles
Which come as green leaves
Growing a shade of shadows
For every thing which seek refuge

The tree is both benevolent to man and wild
Dancing to the tune of both commanders
She gives her fruits as food and snack
And the leaves and barks are vegetables

So this person called the Palm
Is more than a tree.
In parts of lands below the Tropics
We can say she is part of the culture

Want a blog like this one? Then click this link.

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Nursery Rhyme: The Bamboo by Oke’ Iroegbu

Bamboo, Oh Bamboo
Take a look at you!
You are very tall and mild
With stems, severely strong
And leaves straight and long

Bamboo, Oh Bamboo
The favorite Panda’s chew
You blossom upon the waterside
Spreading your branches like a canopy
Over everyone in the small community

Bamboo, Oh Bamboo
Your greens stay hidden in the dew
The men look to you as wild
Yet you become a source of food
And to many more a bunch of wood

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Nene: African woman

1.
The braids on your hair
Is typical of the African woman
Black and totally natural. Nicely fit
Pulling back your cheek bones
Into the hair…
Like a young gazelles face.
Your nose is like the fine basket
When you breath, it is a wonder
And it seems you walk on flowers

2.
When you dance, you smile
Showing white teeth, unspoiled
The teeth: straight and strong
And perfectly fits in
And when you love, it is real
You are black and beautiful
Bold and honorable…
You care, you dare, you are lover
A definition of Gods wonder

3.
When you pout and smile,
The reins of my heart horse drop,
You melt my heart with your laugh
Sometimes I want to run away
You wear beads of several twines
Swerving your body like the snake,
You dance, turning and laughing
And looking above your shoulder
To see if anyone watch; I am your admirer

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August night

I shall sing like the nightingale for you
Throwing flowers before your feet
And make for you a fine cuddly seat

Tonight I will stand behind the mango tree
And I shall call out to you, so we can meet;
So we can hold hands and walk to the square*

I shall tell you my favorite folklores and stories,
I shall tell you about the night and why the moon is half
And how she got herself eaten by the tall giraffe

Tonight I am going to tell you how I feel,
I will tell you all I have for long kept in me
And if you do that your laugh I will run away

There is a marrow of love I have for thee
I shall let you have it and let go of my wit
If you agree to play the strings of my joyful heart

Commentary.
Welcome to my birth month of August everyone. I will like to give a shout out to Lize Bard, she has been reading this blog as far back as I can remember. Thank you Lize and to all my followers, loving and liking my works even at my worst performances I say a big thank you. Have a blessed new month of August. I love you all.

Square: Village square, town centre.

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Color 2 for Uwakmfon Ebong and Makabongwe Luphelele

There are many colors, nice and cute
Dull and tiring, fainting and mute
Some fall by the bronze roadside
More on the greens of the field
The birds fly across the cerulean sky
With the jade hued beetle buzzing by,
On the empty dusty rocks words echo
And the ever warm and cuddly yellow-
The offshoot of the golden sun
Bring men, black or white to tan
The waters of the ocean wash the shores
But colorless are words that teach the lores
The skyline is charcoal black as night falls
The clays of the farmlands a dull sorrel
The color of a fine fish, silver
And the sweet honey a burnt sienna
The beautiful color of a cold bubbling Coca Cola
Poured out on a glass mug to create a wonder…

When we are ired we turn red
On our face and all about the head
When we get jealous or envy
Then we are said to hue green!
Now, we talk of blood and strife
When we mistakenly got cut by a knife
Or when the sons of men go crazy
And take up arms, strange and grey
We are loved when we share flowers
Amber, rose, turquoise and lavender
And what if I make a pick, one for me and you
What would you like best, an orange or an ultramarine blue?

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The Gardeners seed

Saint-Ligoue Street

This was the idea born to me
Sometime, somewhere, August or May
The streams of thoughts come to me
The ones I may not all, say

I met a gardener down the road,
Gracefully adorned with a hat on a pinafore
Smiling, he sat on a wood log spreadagled
And I thought I met him somewhere before

Upon his face was a mix of different men
Hewn out of a stress of thousands of times
A thicket of nerve upon the facial line
And to a moustache burnt by strange climes

On his shaky hands he held a pitchfork
Letting his strength drain down the pole
“You see these hands, them work’d on the docks!”
He began as he beckoned me to a seat of wool

“I have seen the warlds greatest seeds
And the warlds best of weathers…”
He broke into a small laugh and grunted
“O yea, I have seen the Earth and her barders”

I sat down to think of it,
My mind telling me to relax into this
And listen to the fellows wit
Once I heard myself hiss

“Tell me sire, about the little growing seed”
I finally let my curiosity get the better of me
He looked at me, shrugged and loudly laughed
I smiled, though the reason for that I could not see

“Naw sit tight” he began after a deep breath
“The sammer times I go to the Seasides
Where the sun goes dawn to the Earths belt
And the walk on the sands of the shores mild

The birds; seagulls, pelicans and storks
Bathered the tranquility of the queer scenery
I faund myself, a tedious sun tanning wark
The turtles glide about the beach lazily

But I cared little less for the stray animals,
Drawing pictures on the wet sand I found a seed
Which I became fand of, and around it I made a stick wall
And all marnings I wake to attend to the weed

The warm nights grew to days
And days begat other nights
So my little seed came to wake!”
He nodded, shielding his eyes from the sunlight

“You see the golden sun over there son?
She woke all day to tan myself and the seed
For she took the seed as her own son,
Provided us with all the warmth we need

The seed grew not just for planting it
But for the love sown into every soil it lay
The beetles and weeds came to attack it
But I would let none of those spoil her

All about the soil I greatly kept,
And so is the seed of life and loving”
He smiled warmly, and allowed me feel it
“Only the seeds know the joy of growing”

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Watch the sun rise

I watch the sun shine thru my window
Throwing me a familiar wink
And painting the curtain gold
Thru the city streets the lights glow
Like the color of brew which men drink
On all faces it shone, young and old

Day breaks again in the city
My heart long for something else
My dreams point to my calling;
A wheat farm and its serenity,
A pride of Lions in their lairs
Queer birds of Africa wailing

My heart is giving to the wild
I loath the noises of the city
The hustle bustle of strange people.
The twittering of birds are mild
It defined the inspiration in me
I am part of Nature, a true example

Africa is a wonder, a haven
I am given to Gods beautiful creations
My friends are what Nature offer:
Tridax, Drumstick, Marigold, Kenya, Bean
The Leopard, Hippo, Gazelle, Zambia, Lion
Waterfalls, hills, safari, ponds, all that are to wonder

Nothing compareS to this dream,
Let’s go find another land
Let’s go see what the Lord has for us!
The morning is handsomely warm
And the sun is scanning the land
A good day to ride, if I had a horse!

And someday soon, I’ll be there

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Lullaby: Rain drums

Tap tap tap tap…
The first drops fall,
Look up, and see a battalion
Rushing down in haste
Scattering in multitudes,
Causing ‘chaos’ to the city
Splashing happily, joyfully
Upon all who dare stand before it

The night rains are nice
When they come with the wind-
With a very strong wind
It made my curtains dance mad,
Throwing up stray papers
And wooing my candlelight
Which drew a shadow on the wall…

Light are the rains upon the roof
Falling like a thousand little drumbeats
Smacking away, thoroughly the roofpans
Drawing nearer the sweet echos of sleep
Throwing rain drops on my window glass
And training the fatigued to acts of slumber

Like the Qasaqasa drums their beats fall
The rooftops tremble with those touches
Millions of them, hitting the roof tops
I am left to greatly wonder
Why the Rains drums are milder
The Winds feel on the skin softer,
Even as the raindrops fall and scatter
And throwing into our pots clean water
Straight from Heavens store house!

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July

Here comes a month…

Fresh and blessed

With even a strike of rainfall

And the golden face of the Sun

Which delight, I call my imagination

The night will be as usual…

Full of cricket shrieks

And the love I always knew

 

I wish you a beautiful July

A happy new month to all my followers

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Thoughts

Dear diary,
Night falls now…

The city is quiet
Save from toads
Out in the field
And wild crickets
Hiding on the walls

The distinct noises
Of a quarelling couple
Disturb my thoughts
Down on this bed,
I count the days work

There were strange clouds
Up the clouds today
There were tales in my mind
And a quiet time…
Each in different times

Brick walls of school
Playful kids all about
But hey, maths is important
So you must pay attention
Pythagoras, Guassian, Boyle

Books…
There’s a pile on my bed
ODM, Igbo bible, NIV, etc
Teachers Math guide, hmm
A feel of mental work

The streets…
And from the window
The bean-ball vendor
Hawk her products
Nothing really changed

The bank…
Fidelity, we keep our words
Okay oo, I heard you
Then: Have a nice day!
They shout after me

Okay, Teevee…
Flipping the channels
BBC, Brexit, Aljazeera, EU
Obama, Buhari, Ali, Trump
France, Syria, Biafra, Venezuela

Food…
Pick of cracker biscuits
Vit. C, Iodine, peppery soup
Some heavy carbohydrates
And a taste of garlic

The streets busybodies…
They stare always all times
Like very seriously?
You do see me pass
Thru here always, don’t ya?

And street again…
Went strolling and visiting,
Fascinated by the peace in me
Even though the world
Seem to fall slowly apart…

I wonder
What our world
Is fast becoming,
And why kids die in vain
While nations watch war films

But now I recall all
And hope for a better tomorrow
As I retire for the day!

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Muse: Ne’er too late

When the sun fails to wake,
The day grows so cold and gloomy
The Dew cast her spell on the day
From the hilltops, vales and lakes
To the countryside which is woody,
And the ponds where the ducks lay
There is no ‘life’ in the sad day

By the riverside, the wind blast
Throwing the trees into a wild frenzy
The leaves fall into the flowing rivers
As the white waters rush in haste
To lands where very few can see
If the morning sun fails to rise even higher
Should it be an excuse not to work harder?

Now if the sun fails to rise
We grow weak with the waking day
And all surge of energy for work
Disappears from even the hardworker,
We excuse ourselves with the days rain
And call the heavy storms bad names
But if the sun never woke from her slumber
Should we join her in her temporary sleep?

Let a cloudy day come and rain fall
But don’t let your spirits be dampened
It is never too late to start

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Colors: the first part

Colors are very beautiful
They tell a lot about all;
And a little about this and that
The ocean, the sun
The mice that live across
The busy street roads
Or the golden corn field
And the wild, the deserts
And the ice of Antarctica
Colors describe our feelings
Red with rage
The royal purple…

Each day wakes with colors
Take the flowers as an example,
Some grow so pale like the purple
And some, like the blessed color of harvest
Gold, the suns’ face upon a field of wheat

The soft and mild wind move about, quietly
Up the great green trees where the pretty birds live
And on the grey soil where the mushrooms thrive
But none is able to paint her till this day
Why? I wonder, but none can truly say

Okay let us paint a color, a fair one
Just any color which comes to mind
Flaunt the blues, make a little mound
Of nice sweet dreamy hue of orange
With a bunch of hogs walking to forage

Okay, let us talk about the eye hues
About the red that signifies danger
And the blood-shot eyes of the Hyena
Brown, that makes all images muddy
And to me seems a lot more nasty

What if there was a color of feelings?
Now let us try to paint a color of love
Like a surge of water upon the wharf
How amazing it is to add a drop of ruby
A humble hue, just for you and me?

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A beautiful day

The light has come upon my eyes
Birds twitter behind the windows glass
Beautiful sunrise across the horizon
The skies are gold, so is the land

Voices of people are drawn to me
What a marvelous day it will be!
The big sleepy town wakes very slowly
Man, woman, child, pets, trees, Lilies

I see wonderfully, I am conscious
Wake to the Lords abundant grace
I am alive today, the Lords blessed day
One in a bright and sunny month of May

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Oke Iroegbu’s Shepherds Tale

(1)
Is it not a great night to write?
What beats our lovely imagination
When stars fall with colors bright
Or as a ninja-faced Soy bean sprout?

(2)
The nights are like firecrackers
Blossoming into beautiful stars
When they hit the soft sky
Shedding light shots of hues
They remind a tired shepherd
Of the days walk with the sheep
And when the cold night comes
Before he sets his head upon a pillow
He shoves some words on paper
Making poetry of his wandering
Counting green trees he passed by
The mistletoes, the Teak and the Sycamore
The little mysteries of the woods and her lores
And when he does lay to a quiet sleep
Letting his mouth be on a Coconut sip
Smiling to the dreams which he held back
As all grow dim and the night become dark

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Rainmakers’ tales: 2 tales of Oke- Iroegbu

When I am not making the rain fall
And flood the villagers huts and farms
And to make the river banks overflow
So that the forests pathway is swampy
And the great crocodiles are washed ashore;
Then I will be watching the glittering stars
And talking about the stars, the night and moon
Well, the night is never complete without a tale
For the sleepy little ones,
But this time, no reading from a book
I shall tell you of the Forest and her folks
… Oke- Iroegbu

(a)
Once when the Forests owned all the land
And the Forest King has loved the greens
For it spread, such that the white mountains
Were covered with green grasses and plants
The Wind truly loved the look on the Mountain
For during the Winter, she had grown terribly cold
That she felt absolutely nothing even for the Wind
Then she had no dimples, no smiles, no blushing
Then it was only the Tomato that blushed about
Tanners, farmers, pupeteers called out to her
And all she could was smile and blush deep red
The Ice King wooed the Mountain and usually
Gathered about her face to give her a warm kiss
But this never went down well with the cool Wind
Now that the Ice King has gone with his captains
And Summer has come, the Forests came with their greens
How awlful, the Wind felt all year round
Seemed he was just a big time born loser!
But the true logic being that the Mountain
Was never meant for this young Wind

(b)
Now it was the tradition that the young men
Cut wood in the neighboring green forests
Before they can be allowed to chose a maiden
There was no axes in the town and near hamlets
And men were desperate for things
Even when they are not ready and ripe for it
Mirtle was a young man, despised and frail
Naturally dull, but deep inside he was a man
The youth of the hamlet, saw him as a weakling
And infact unfit for this great competition
So he was abandoned, and the other men
Went deep into the hearts of the green forest
Looking for wood, for there was no axe then
Then came dwarves walking about the hamlet
Without food or warm clothing
And night came upon them daily
And they starve and want warmness
And no one cared or even looked at them
For the villagers loathed the dwarves
But not all of them were villains
The weak Mirtle might be weak physically
But he had compassion and love
And knew what it meant to be cold
Not from the treacherous night weather
But from the hatred that lurks in peoples hearts
Mirtle gave his food and warm cloths
To some of the dying dwarves
Sharing with them till he had none
One night, the Chief Dwarf presented a gift
And lo! An axe, not just ordinary
And so Mirtle had wood and a fair maid
For his kindness to strangers in need

I knew you got the message, I had imagined and made this story to teach about love and kindness. Abraham entertained angels without knowing it.

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Haiku: Hope

There shines a chain of stars, lined up the
night sky
Glittering to the quiet and queer custom; a perfect night style
Lighting up the hill top; a spectacular view of these forested lands
Let’s hope on Divine providence; it will never forsake our hands

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Another Tale of a Shepherd

Nothing compares to the sweet sleep
Of all good and hardworking shepherds
He retires with a fine and adorable smile
And to his bed of wool, he lays
Tuning into the local radio station
To listen to some old folk songs
Nodding almost silently to the rhythm
Smiling to the memories of the stressful day
And the little Lavender he found on the way

The night is quiet, warm and cosy
The moon is wearing a cute smiley
But to his lonely blanket he clings
As the duckling will to the Hens wings
And the air about is moist and fresh
This is his own warm and perfect nest
Thanks to the open wooden window
The light in the room is very low
And there is enough breeze to go around
Even the noisy brown crickets are ignored
The screeching of all strange insects-
The nomads of the quiet nights
Rent the air, disturbing companions
But the lonely Shepherd slept on
And soon a beautiful dream
One of fantasy; milk, honey a-swimming
Shall dawn upon his big and weary head
And so, in such times he laughs out aloud!

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Brothers with Fonuoha and Ciroegbu

(i.)
Laughter is a sweet wine
She goes into the eyes
Burning the desires of men
Family is a nice paradise

(ii.)
Friendship is like a flying Eagle
Flying above quiet blue waters
In love there is no need for struggle
Nothing like a sister or brother

(iii.)
Sometimes things and people change
But nothing changes a familys’ love
From plain vales to mountain ranges
There is no pat, finer than a loved ones hug

(iv.)
In this heart of mine, in my minds eyes
Lives a long weary tale and poetic tapes
Ups and downs, laughs and sighs
But the smile on your faces give me hope

I love you all; family, friends and readers
Yours’ penly
Iroegbu Oke’

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Wait for the Morning

Wait for the morning
It comes a little while
The night was long and creepy
But the morning must surely come

Wait for the rising sun
Hear the birds twitter
Upon the trees that stay around
Let Heavens airs touch you

Throw the curtains open
Watch the sun rays fall
On the waters of the river
Feel the wonders of Nature

Let the golden sun filter in
Through the open windows
Be thankful, for the life you have
For nothing is greater than this!

Arise and shine, for it it morning!
Show some care, watch the tree leaves fall
And when it gets dark and evening again
Let the memories of the morning stay still

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Musing: To a Future…

(i.)
“Open the windows of your heart
See the wonders outside; besides you”

I like to write this for you, dear
For memoirs of what we share
And as the last days drew near
A moment of truth, I can swear

I care for all which come to me
The butterflies which fine colors I see
And the Sparrows which fly to the Sea
And in all; to me, I will always be me

(ii.)
“The clouds are blue up the Heavens
A fine prize for those who care to love”

Within, without but my love is for charity
I will never claim any right or authority
I get all muddled at times, love is also piety
For it does not come from looks or prosperity

I always have very little to say
I have found it, now I know the way
Strong winds flush about, on me it plays
Scoffing at my face when I try to look away

(iii.)
“Say always words of encour,
Save the young hydras’ neck”

I keep trying to reach and talk to you
Each time you seem to be busy Iroegbu
And then you told me you will be good
I went my way, so I hope you would

Not for me, nay, no, not anymore
I dislike inconsistency, it’s an eyesore
But faith, believe, trust and care all allures
Talk to me, but do not hasten to my door

(iv.)
“Do not fall prey to the Bear
For her manner of dinner is queer”

I felt your heart beat happily when we hugged
We complained for it lasted only for a few seconds
A memoir, desire and longing that in my quiet self, long ago lived
But to my books and future, to You Jehovahs word; I lovely wed

But then I will always be myself in the end
And to these bright future, flowers I shall send
For I have seen it all, I have seen the Lions den
And I shall say goodbye, just by the rivers bend

I muse from this quietness in my soul and the comfort of my dear bed…

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The Tale of a Shepherd

When it is time to leave the hamlet
To leave the vales and the thornful paths
To seek fresh and sweet grasses
For the little bleating lamb and sheep
The shepherd wakes from his slumber

The roads are rocky and mountainous
Filled with stubborn stones and quarry
The mistletoe grow on the roadside
But the herd march on, happily to other places
Minding the bushes and hare traps

The morning is mild, the sun not awake yet
The clouds heavy with dew and mists
And when the herd sees the gliitering stream
They rush forward for a splash and cold drink
Gulping and disturbing the little fishes

The shepherd bends to wash his sooty face
A young lamb rushes to him, nudging him lightly
Then he stretches his palm, touching her face
Running his hands up and down her neck
And in that delight, she bleats excitedly

The noon comes with the suns heat
The trees provide shed for the shepherd and his herd
He sits on a rock to watch the amazing sight before him;
Lovely lamb and fine sheep grazing humbly
On a vast green valley, full of life

He looks up to the tree branches
As beautiful plummages sing joyfully
And the humming bees that stay on the tree
Smiles draw across his handsome ruddy face
For this lovely sight he sees each day

Even so, the airs become milder as the sun set
The herd walk up to him as he whistle to them
In a few minutes, he has called all to himself
And towards the hamlet behind the hills, they went
Happy again to splash through the waters of the stream

In the evening when the sun is finally set
The happy shepherd returns home to his fluffy bed
For a quick modest dinner of warm milk and bread
And on his bed he turns and tosses to find some rest
Counting the sheep in his mind, and smiling in his sleep

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A Tale of the Wildwoods 3: Summer arrives

And when the beautiful summer happened to come…
Upon the glades and vales of the wildwoods
The Mountain stood quietly by the forest side
Sniffing the sweet smell come from fresh growing flower shrubs
The happy birds come flying back home
Followed by all pretty insects and the boar herd
The skies are tinted with blue skirmish
Sometimes it seemed it will rain, but it wouldnt
The tomatoes ripen fast and blush deeply
Whenever the black beetles walk up to her for a little chat
The sun shine brightly, amused at all reunions
The fine community knew many, many happy times
This was one of those beautiful moments, exhilarating
Antelopes walk majestically beneath the tree branches
And squirrels hide behind the branches, watching
“Awww, do you see that?” the pink footed Doves quiz themselves
For in a sudden, a young seed came sprouting from the last snow dot
How joyful it was, the Mountain wore a dark gown
Wondering who dared to admire her triangular shape
For her lover, the cold Ice-King had travelled far, far away to another land
Carrying with himself; all stray winds, both little and mighty
To find another lover, but she believed not that
For she heard it as a rumor from the busybody grey Wolf
The Pines look quite taller, for the snow has left their frost-bitten roots
And when they look down, they feel good about themselves
“Oh, how awlfully painful the frost bite was on our foot”
The crickets wonder, leaping from a grass leaf to another
Allowing the wet airs to sift through their fine long body muscles
“The dead Earth is alive!” They yell in utmost joy and unison
“Look at the Mountain, must she dress scantily
Now the Ice-King has no use for her iniquities?”
A confused Wolf said, hiding his face from the suns light
“And what beauty she has brought forth”, a confused Linnet replied
“The flowers blossom in magnificient desires
The tree leaves are greener, and the airs milder
But are all these, the only wealth of the summer?”
The philosophical Woodpecker asked as he shook his head
For to him, the soul of living and happiness
Comes not in the summer nor the winter

This is the third in the series of Wildwood poetry written and posted in this blog.

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Silhouettes and Fear

What lurks in the darkness and nights
Waiting to jump on ones neck
When no light come from the stars?

What bears a fur and Sabre tooth
And follow the silhoutte of preys
Even as one walk in the lonely park?

What stands in a dark tree plantation
Running its ferocious claws on tree barks
And howling to the new moon rising?

What strikes grave horror and terror
Running after mens heels
Trying to stand before ones face?

What wears a sinister painted mask
With forbears of evil and coldness
Trying to feed on gullible peoples minds?

Nothing fearful is actually real
But when the night and shadows are gone
Fear only, He who kills the soul and body

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Beautiful days stay unseen

When the dark clouds come upon the clan
All grow dim, sobre and quiet
The stars are hidden from sight
But the dark cloak holds all down
The stars, the hopes and good dreams
The fireflies cast a minute light
On the stormy and windy night
The clouds bear a weird apparition
Confused at his very own face

When the days light come
The strange feelings of loneliness
Evaporates like dews upon the tree leaves
Birds wake to sing, gladly even with sweet voices
Multitudes of fluffy nightingales weigh down
The strong branches of the Teak and Gmelina
The sun rays are bright
Upon the clans stream waters
It glitters with pretty light
Hues of green, yellow and purple
Swaying dregs of falling dusts
Fall from long farm rakes
As they pull up the dried hay
The tree leaves are ever green
For the previous nights darkness
Took this beauty from mens vision
There is abundant joy and bewildment;
Astonishment come on the clans glare
The wheat fields are golden and pretty
The ears of grains waiting to be picked
Dancing happily to the beautiful day
The sun shines
The clouds blue
The birds play
On happy trees

Beautiful days are not come yet

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Musing: Crickets

Crickets are my best insects
But why? I know not
They stay under my bed
And cry out till I have an ache up my head
But what they say also I know not
Though I think they talk about broth
Wonder why little insects
Grow even beer intent
They growl, some bark
And all these come to my back
‘Stop’ I would shout
‘No way, you are talking to yourself’
I wonder if they cared if I was asleep
‘Who does he even think he is?’
They squeak behind my hearing
Not knowing my elfy ears pick all
‘Yaaay! Let’s shriek more!!!’
They stubbornly seem to say
When they seem to hear me snore
Come what happens or may
The shrieks and strange crickety talks
Come to me as disturbing lullaby

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A New Day

The morning sun brings joy
Now that the dark has gone
And the clan is wide awake
To begin the days routine

The clouds are bright
For the new day has come
Birds fly away over the hills
The forest trees drift about

The mists are sucked off
As the heat of the Sun shine forth
The airs are dry
The winds are flirty

The infants wanting milk wail
Dogs, cats, pigeons; pets play about
The clan is ready to work
For the day waits for no man

The morning has come
Hopes are high
The traders offload their goods
And the town is fully woken

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Musing

The dusts wane
Clouds are free of them
Birds ski up the sky
And people return home
A fresh start to begin
And that is just lifes swing

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Musing: Chinyere Duroha

I heard you fought near Libya
And other parts of North Africa
The stories told of your bravery
And as I watch your old pictures
As you pose with a rifle in the front
I wonder, I ponder
Will I ever grow your courage?
I was told about your exploits
About how you beat up a racist
The promotion that followed afterward
And the stories of bunker fights

I heard that you hunt in the forests
When men stay asleep and the day is gone
And the moon is gone far away from home
That you killed pythons and wild cattle
And that you hold many titles in the clan
I wonder, I ponder
When such strength I shall grow?
Heard about your ways with the wild
How you study the fish and the bird
Your traps that caught antelopes
And the wild and crafty porcupines

I heard that you farm virgin lands
That you love your people and life
And you also love your tradition
That you plant the king of foods
And you give to the needy and poor
I wonder, I ponder
If I could be this, I appreciate
I heard of your large yam barns
Of the gardens of fresh vegetables
I heard of your discipline and love
For your family and for my mother

Now they call me a reincarnate
But how true are these they say of me,
Am I such or should I wait to see?

For Chinyere Duroha
World War 2 Veteran and my grandfather

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Start new, 2016

Seeing this fresh new year
Reminds of how dear
We are to God, Almighty
From the jungles of East Africa
To the snowy lands of Canada
Arise, be blessed, be lifted!
From the sands of Arabia
To the icy terrains of Russia
Let joy be-filled in your dealings
And from the cold nights to come
Even as the suns scorch come
Do not falter, for all is new
Let hope arise as the sun wakes
Carry on, be glad for life’s sake
You saw the start of something great
And at the end
We all acknowledge the Lords deed
For His power alone kept us
Let your voices sing, “we made it” thank God!
For all this while, He has made all new and blessed”

Now this piece I dedicate to you all my readers and followers, without you writing would make little sense to me. I can’t mention all the names but I want you all to know I appreciate. Let us share information; help each other with writing opportunities and contest notifications and fly higher this year.

It is New Year! And as they say New Year, New Life and New Resolution. I strongly encourage everyone to be diligent, to be good, to live in peace with fellow men and in all to work harder. It never late to start something new. Never fear to fall, for in falling you discover a new way of doing something. Have the courage to dare, to try and to dream. The future belongs to us all. Happy new and blessed 2016 to you all.

Oke- Iroegbu
1.1.2016